


Red and Blue Cats: Klance Collection

by InsominiacArrest



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bachelor Auction, Childhood Friends, Concerts, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, One Shot Collection, Romance, Slice of Life, Sloppy Makeouts, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsominiacArrest/pseuds/InsominiacArrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Red/blue: Keith and Lance end up at a Halsey concert since their friends, Hunk (loves the music) and Pidge (is a huge agender lesbian) drag them there, Lance is too tall, Keith is angry and some bonding occurs<br/>2. Heaven/hell: Stripper AU. Lance is the bartender at the club 'Heaven & Hell' who wants Keith to teach him to do what he does.<br/>3. kid fic where Keith and Lance are childhood friends<br/>4. Bachelor Auction where Lance bids on Keith for a date<br/>5. Lance is stuck in the rain and Keith offers his umbrella to walk home under <br/> <br/>I take requests at my <a href="http://insomniac-arrest.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Were Stupid and I was Angry and Suddenly You Touched me and I was Stangry

**Author's Note:**

> one of the silliest titles I've had for something, but it made me laugh
> 
> Gets a little hot n heavy, but nothing overboard

The wind buffeted Keith’s collar and he wonders why he didn’t bring a hat when he knew he’d be standing outside in line for a couple hours.

He sighs and tries not to reveal that his ears were complaining like old ladies at the supermarket, “okay, but you talked about the superiority of Daft Punk to all other music for a week.”  
  
His companion turned around and blinked up at him, “you have to say...Robots, Keith. Techno music robots, I can’t believe you aren’t excited by that concept.”  
  
“Those are masks-”  
  
“Dressing up as robots.” Pidge says as they threw their mittened hands in the air.

“Okay, but we still are dancing around my point: you don’t like alt pop. You’re not a Halsey person.”  
  
Pidge stared back up at him blankly, “she’s hot.” They blinked again simply, “Do you not see that she’s as hot? Keith, she’s like McDonald's coffee, Phoenix summers, our neighbors ass. H O T.”

“Jesus. Really?” Keith huffs and crosses his arms across his chest, “I don’t see it, but okay. That will be the reason we freeze our asses off in January for a tiny concert venue.”  
  
Pidge snickered, “speak for yourself. I am toasty with hand warmers and 12 ounce coffee.”  
  
Keith glanced down at Pidge’s steaming thermos and wonders how uncool it would be to ask for some on a scale of ‘weak to baby who forgets his hat.’ “Are you gonna burn yourself on hand warmers again?”  
  
“That was one time!”

“And the scars?” Keith snorted.

Pidge murmured about not putting handwarmers in their bra ever again, that they learned their lesson, Keith snickers, it had been a wild winter band-camp.

 Keith was able to discreetly get Pidge to hand over the thermos to him. His night was getting a little better.

 They eventually make to the front of the line and hand over their sixty dollar tickets, Keith thinks about grumbling again, but at least Pidge looked excited.

They walk into ‘The Castle,’ as they called the indoor theater on 9th street and Keith holds his breath, it was even more cramped than he expected.

Pidge excitedly tells him about Halsey’s latest tweets and Keith told them to wait a moment, he needed a drink, Pidge pouts off to the side at being only 17 (young and sweet, agender lesbian).

Keith gets himself a whiskey on the rocks- he might need something hard to get through this sweaty mess of alt. teens. He counts 21 flower crowns in the first half hour.

“Come on,” Pidge drags him forward, “I want a good spot on the floor.”  
  
“How close?” Keith sips his drink absently.

Pidge looks back at him and grins, “close enough for her to spit on me.”  
  
“Okay.” Keith wrinkles his nose, “I’m glad you can’t drink yet.”  
  
Pidge positions them by one of the sound speakers and Keith shifts his weight from side to side, he wasn’t a kid anymore he tells himself, he could get over the touching and chatter and lights. He hopes.

He hadn’t known Pidge long enough to tell them about this sort of thing, so he just tells them to cool their jets and ruffles their fluffy hair, Pidge sticks their tongue out at him.

The openers are light punk girl band that Pidge also started to cheer louder and ogle more than Keith deemed necessary. But he wasn’t one to talk, there was cute boy ripped jeans almost right in front of him.

“Girl bands, oh my God, _girl bands_.” Pidge threw their hands in the air and tugged on Keith’s sleeve, “I’m gonna reach valhalla. Galpala. And hopefully they’ll play up there in like, cute crop tops and snapbacks.”  
  
Keith laughed and told Pidge to not die on him, he honestly didn’t want to find a new college roommate.

“Hey, Hunk, fuck, we’re missing the openers, oh dude! Is that Cherry Love?” Someone jostles Keith from behind and Keith grunts as he’s pushed forward.

“Hey! Watch it.” He tries to push back, but the duo had already positioning themselves in front of them.

A very, very tall boy with short, wispy hair appears in his line of vision. Keith frowns and furrows his brow.

“Hey, buddy, my friend here is tiny, do you think you can move to the side?”

“Hey!” Pidge was not fond of the ‘T’ word.

“Oh sorry,” the bigger guy steps to the side and lets Pidge wiggle in front, Keith goes to follow, but the tall boy steps in.

“Shorties only, I don’t want you blocking the view.” He says as he lovingly looked on stage.

“I was here first!” He fumes and nearly decides to knock the other guys teeth in, he rolls his sleeve up.

“Whoa, whoa, no sleeve rolling up, there’s...well, not really enough room for everyone, but I’m Hunk, and this is Lance, let’s have a great concert.” Hunk goes to shake Keith’s hand and Keith has an ass-backwards time of trying to figure out if it was worth it to shake it or not.

Keith opened his mouth, but then the band ended and crowd erupted into cheers as bright as sparklers.

“We are Cherry Love, and Denver you’ve been beautiful tonight!” The crowd continued to cheer and Keith sniffed tersely.

They wave the girls off and Keith can see Pidge clear enough to watch them try and throw a slip of paper at the girls. Their number? Keith was too far away to ask.

“Oh God, she’s coming.” Hunk, the big guy, shook his friend's shoulder and the tall boy just shrugged.

“Is she gonna do that sing-talk thing?”  
  
“Of course! Lance, you love Britney Spears, don’t give me that look.”  
  
“I love you buddy, but honest-”  
  
“Shut up, here she comes,” Pidge barks and Keith watches Pidge elbow the two strangers to be quiet, Keith is proud.

A young women with short hair and dark lipstick comes on stage and Keith watches her smile and the crowd erupt like a blender without a lid on it.

Keith is jostled from all sides and he tries to keep his feet planted, why were they so close up again?

“How are you feeling tonight Denver?!” They crowd screams and she thanks them all for coming.  
  
Halsey begins the concert and Keith sways to the sound of crooning music as she belts her lungs out. It’s not too bad.

Except for not being able to see- and maybe everything being _too much_.

“You’re ripped at every edge, but you’re a masterpiece…” She sings, Keith finds himself humming, even if it lacked a certain edge he was used to (Papa Roach would disapprove). “...I’ve only felt religion when I’ve lied with you.” But he could still his pulse rising and the light glares into his vision like a UFO coming to abduct him- he digs his nails into the meat of his palm.  
  
Someone hits him in the throat and Keith chokes and balls up his fists, he takes a deep breath and grits his teeth. The sound rocks his senses.

“Pidge,” he growls to get the smaller person's attention, “I’m,” he breaths in through his nose, “I’ll be outside.”

“What?”  
  
“Be right back!” He turns before he sees the confusion in Pidge’s eyes fully blooms.

“Wait, wait, mullet, I didn’t mean it, awe, come on.” Lance, the one who apparently hit him, called after Keith, Keith kept going.

“... _You were red and you liked me because I was blue, you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky_ …” Keith let the music drift away.

He found the little back door he remember from his last visit and bangs it open to the chilled night air. He tosses himself against the wall and reaches inside his jacket.

“Hey, my ghost or whatever, where’d you go?” A voice follows him out.

Keith doesn’t even blink and perches a cigarette between his lips and searched his pockets for a lighter.

Lance bangs the door open after him and Keith watches him search the fenced area. “Ah!” He turns around, “there you are. Look, I really didn’t mean it.”  
  
Keith shook his head, “I’m fine. It wasn’t you.”

Lance frowns, “what’s your deal then?”  
  
“It’s hot. It’s sweaty, I needed a smoke.” Smoking was more of an offshoot of when he had too much tension in his shoulders and not enough release. It was not a good habit.

“Here, here. My sister got me this.” Lance digs into his pockets and brings out a lighter, the little flame flickers to life and he positions it in front of Keith’s lip. The top glows like an ember in a dying hearth and Keith inhales.

“You’re going to miss the concert you know.” Keith points out as Lance loiters just outside the door and scuffs his shoes on the ground.

Lance shrugs, “I'm here for my friend, Hunk, he really wanted to come. He eats this ‘thoughtful’ music up.”  
  
“And you?”

Lance sprouts a crooked grin, “give me mindless bubblegum pop any day.”

Keith chuckles and finds himself drawn in despite himself, “Come on, really?”  
  
Lance went off on a bright tangent about the quality of ‘Call me Maybe’ and how K-pop was the funnest thing since sliced bread.

Keith shook his head and told him about the tragedy of MCR breaking up and Lance laughed at him deliriously.

“Alright, alright, you are number one Hot-Topic patron. Then how’d _you_ end up here?” Lance leaned on the wall next to him and Keith looked at him carefully.

“Halsey is apparently really hot.”  
  
Lance laughed again and Keith put out his cigarette on the ground, Lance was like a babbling brook full of howler monkey’s, obnoxious, but distracting enough to take the edge off.

“Damn right she is!” Lance looks around and shakes the colored bracelets on his wrist.

“You can go back in if you want to see her.” Keith offers and catches his eye.

Lance shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling of stars above them, “I like it out here. It’s not bad for a creepy freezer box.”  
  
Keith watches the profile of his chin and thin lips that curved up like the bows on presents. Keith has a very strong desire to be all over this boy like a newspaper reporter on a sex scandal.

“What’s with the glow sticks?” Keith finally asks as he examines the blue and red glowsticks on Lance’s wrists, they looked silly in the drab alley surrounded by icy concrete and fenced off streets.

Lance blinked, “awe! Did you not see the dude handing them out at the door? It’s literally the best idea ever.” A goofy smile was back on the kid’s lips.

“Glowsticks.” Keith deadpans before puffing out, “revolutionary.”  
  
“Nah,” Lance holds them up, “it’s for singles trying to meet people, red is if you’re looking for girls and blue is if you’re looking for boys.”

“Oh,” Keith tilts his head and takes his hands out of his pockets, “was that the same guy giving out LSD?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Lance’s cheeks heat up, “same guy. But! Still the best idea.”  
  
Keith hums to himself and smiles, “red and blue, huh?  
  
“Red and blue all the way,” Lance blinks happily and smirk plays across his lips.

Keith snorts, “You have like fifteen on.” He points out and Lance just shrugs.

“Let’s just say I’m _really_ single.”

The soft glow of a distant street light makes Lance’s sharp features frightfully open and well-crafted, and Keith’s eyes soften, something in him longs and floats to the aching music inside. “Can I have one?” He asks as he leans forward with his hip jutted out.

Lance audibly inhaled, “which one?”

Keith grins devilishly and speaks in a low timber, “blue.”

Lance seemed to shiver slightly, Keith chalked it up to the cold, but when he put his wrist out Lance scrambled to get one of the bracelets off.

Lance licked his lips and bent forward, looping it around Keith’s outstretched wrist with unsteady fingers. Keith felt a thumping between them as Lance's fingertips brushed against his naked skin, Keith leaned in and their faces end up inches apart.

Lance visibly gulped as their faces magnetized, Keith hesitantly caught the side of Lance’s mouth and kissing him ever so softly in the dark of the alley.

Lance kisses back immediately, enthusiastic as a new born puppy straight out the womb. Keith can’t help but feel a headiness and a satisfaction that drummed through his veins.

The kiss is heavy and filled with a little too much teeth and heated fever.

Lance pushes Keith up against the brick wall and digs his hands into Keith’s shoulders, he kisses back and Lance mumbles into his mouth.

“Wow.” Lance huffs and Keith grins and nips at his jawline, “you taste like smoke.” Lance states brightly, like it was the best thing in the world.

“Uh, we can stop-”  
  
He’s cut off because Lance is kissing him with a renewed fervor and wrapping his long bowed arms around his waist.

Keith matches up their hips and the kiss is heated like a pot boiling over and all his limbs are tingly from the cold.

Lance is rhythmic and unpaced, Keith is persistent and moves into his mouth like he’s trying to dig words out of his teeth. Keith gets a few moans arising out of Lance as they make out to the beat of the music inside.

Keith doesn’t know how much time passes but it gets hot and heavy and Lance is rutting against his leg and telling him how pretty he is and cool, and he wants to take him home.

Keith holds him upright, hands around his narrow hips and artfully carves a hickey into Lance's neck, Lance moans again and litters him with praise like confetti at a may day parade. "Good, ah god, okay."

“Keith!” A sudden voice calls to him, “Keith, jeez, oh my God, please don’t have punched a roady in the nose.”  
  
"Oh." A figure bursts out of the side exit. “Fuck, you horny bastard.”  
  
Keith looks up and blinks at Pidge who was crossing their arms across their chest in the doorway. Keith shrugs, “Halsey wasn’t my type.” He states and Pidge rolls their eyes.

“I was worried about you, God, I didn’t go to college early for this.” Keith lets Lance go who whines very subtly.

“I found your friend!” Pidge called into the venue and Hunk burst out from the door next.

“Lance, Lance,” Hunk approaches and then takes Lance into a huge hug and Lance woozily appears to hug back. “Where were you?” Hunk demands and Keith watches Lance smile loopily with a thumbs up.

“I got some.” Lance emphasizes the ‘some,’ and gazes at Keith from the side. Keith rolls his eyes and may want to slug him in the shoulder.

“Really?” Hunks eyes were wide.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Lance says with hands on his hips, he and Hunk bicker back and forth and Hunk gives him a noogie.

Keith saddles back up to Pidge, “do you have a piece of paper?”

"Paper?"

"Uh, yeah."

“Oh ho ho,” Pidge bounces their eyebrows up and down, “is that how it is.”  
  
“Shut up.” Keith turns away, “shut up.” Pidge produces a scrap of paper and Keith scribbles some numbers down and tells Lance not to lose it, because he looks like the type of guy to lose it.

Lance, for once, seemed speechless and took it with a mute nod that resembled a rapid-fire pez dispenser.

Keith blushed and hunched his shoulders over from the cold, Pidge kept smirking at him and telling him he can’t make fun of Pidge ever again for writing sexy haiku’s about their next door neighbor.

Keith told them not a chance, they make it back to their apartment, Keith in a weird daze, and Pidge in a excited tizzy as they recount the concert.

  
Keith puts the blue bracelet in the freezer.


	2. The Devil's in the Details

**Part One**

He did the same routine every time: came out in a full suit and a pair of high-end angel wings and then slowly took it off with a smirk on his face and eyes like a viper's teeth on prey. One by one he took it off while making eye contact with the patrons, the tie first, then the jacket, then one button of the shirt at a time while he walked and the slow jazz crooned.

He would end it with nothing else on but black booty-shorts which left nothing to the imagination, the angel wings and a long slippery pole he knew his around. Sometimes black stilettos were involved.

Lance would had to dry swallow a couple times to ignore the whole scene, he had drinks to deliver and patrons to shoo away, and a degree to pay for.

So, Keith Kogane could slide around a pole all he liked, Lance had his eyes on the tables and a smile on the customers. He had his own red-sequin booty shorts to show off.

Of course, that is until he saw Keith counting his tips at the end of the night one Friday.

It had been a steady night: a strong stream of customers that luckily didn't get too rowdy or handsy, and Lance was a little late to getting out as he lost one of his shoes behind the bar.

He slowed down while he passed one of the dancers and blinked at the money in Keith’s hands, he swallows again. “Uh, was that all from tonight?” His eyes don’t leave the green stack, some were twenties.

Keith’s eyes slowly rose with arched eyebrows, probably surprised to be addressed since they had never formally spoken before.

He looks back at the wad of cash and then slipped it into his heavy jacket, he nods. “Yeah.” It wasn’t a friendly word from out of his mouth and Lance scowled. “Isn’t that obvious?” Keith finishes lowly and Lance steps backwards.

“Just asking, angel boy.” He grumbles as he lifted his backpack higher onto his shoulder and turned around, “stupid Keith."

The next time was even harder, Lance was adjusting his tacky devil horns on his head when Keith walked over, dark hooded eyes and only an inch or so shorter than Lance in his razor-sharp stilettos.

Lance tries not to eye him, Keith wasn’t one to come onto the floor with the yocals.

“Hey, sweetheart, is that my bourbon?” Lance shakes his head clear and turns back around.

“Yes, here you go sir.” He shines at the customer and waits for a tip.

A man in a rumpled business suit slips and thinning hair slips a one into his suspenders and Lance tries not to visibly sigh.

Meanwhile he sees why Keith came out: there was an older man in a Louis Vuitton suit eyeing him like a very patient PTA-mom eyes the best steak at the supermarket.

Of course, Keith wasn’t here to beat around the bush, he walked directly towards the silver haired gentlemen and lays his arms over his shoulders.

Keith’s hips are magnetic and the man’s face was the cast iron attractant, his skin shines a type of silver in the pulsing lights, and his spine bent and tensed like a rippling snake.

Lance has to force himself to turn around and walk the other direction on spaghetti legs, he tells himself that he knew what he was signing up for when he took this jobs- think of the paycheck! His poor bisexual heart still wheezes like it ran up twenty flights of stairs.

“Hey son!” A lady who was scoping out the place for a bachelorette party orders a Shirley temple. He hops to it and flirts easily with the twenty year old until she laughs a tinkling chitter and looks him up and down.

“Why aren’t you up there?” She asks suggestively as she tips her head to the stage and eyes his torso- Lance bites his lip. It was a question he got asked often enough from the various patrons.

Lance was about to say something cheesy like ‘my performance is better in the bedroom,’ and maybe take this lady home (on a Thursday no less).

But his eye catches on the man in the grey suit and Keith Kogane. “Because I don’t dance like that.” He says instead, because he’s an idiot and his brain spits out what he’s thinking like a two-year being fed broccoli.

“Oh,” the young woman glances behind them, Keith was running his hands down the man, fingers not even touching and yet it was intimate as a lovers embrace. “I wouldn’t beat myself up over that kid,” she laughs the silver sound of clinking coins, “that’s a professional.”  
  
Lance blushes and says he has to take other orders, she pouts and playfully snaps his suspender straps across his bear skin before he can he get away properly.

The night draws to end on Mathews performance: a very sultry version of the ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia.’ Which always made Lance laugh a little from the cheesy song and little hip twitches.

His spirits were a little lifted by Catherine’s twenty dollar tip, of course, until he saw Keith finish the entire lap dance on the floor, and the man hand him a hundred.

Lance nearly bursts a blood vessel and he waits for the little bar to formally close and throw out the rest of the smokey, whiskey-laden patrons. A hundred.

He troupes up to Keith again before he can go change, “seriously?!” He puts his arms out wide and almost shakes.

Keith turns his face up to him, holding the heels in his hands so was once again several inches shorter than Lance. He absently started to push some of his silver body glitter off.

“What?” He finally asks bluntly.

“How…” Lance struggles, “why.” He growls and tears at his own hair.

“You got any actual words in there?” Keith was once again, the reigning champ of being an ass.

Lance blinks and sucked the words into the cage behind his teeth, he tries to let them out. He takes steadying, angry breaths until Keith turned to leave.

“Teach me how to dance like that!” He calls out as several of their coworkers turn to stare at them and Lances outburst. “I need the money!” He could pay off his undergrad degree, his current grad degree and maybe buy something other than ramen noodles for dinner.

Keith glances behind him, sharp eyes and terse pull of his lips downward. “No.”  
  
Lance chases after him, “I’ll give you my tip for the night.” He offers and Keith continues to flick specks of sparkles off his skin.

He turns slowly to Lance and tilts his head. “All of them?”  
  
“Sure.” Lance nods with a little voice in his head cursing him down.

Keith shrugs and turns around and sighs, “come here early on Saturday. But no complaining if I can’t help you barbunny.”  
  
“It’s Lance,” Lance asserts and Keith waves him off. “And I’m gonna be a better dancer than you!”

He can hear Keith snicker to himself as the dark-haired boy slips behind the stage, Lance exhales and wonders if he’s making the right move.

\-------------

Lance shows up two hours early on his day off (yes on his day off, Keith didn’t even check if he was working that night)-- not to mention his astro-physics homework he could have been doing at that very moment.

‘Heaven & Hell’ was a weird sight to see in the daytime: crooked and sultry it became an oak-floored old lady in the light. Red curtains hanging like wrinkles on a dusty stage and tables empty as a friendless birthday party.

Lance examines the strange eeriness of the place, faceless and without the palpable desire that usual radiated through the room. Lance takes a breath, it was kind of nice.

He examines the bar to see if Jeff remembered to sweep, Jeff never remembered to sweep and it always pissed Lance off a little when ever he stepped in a sticky spot the next night.

He doesn’t clean it up, because again, he’d rather be eating his fingers than working right now. He starts playing with the dart board instead, not seriously, but in lazy little tosses that barely made it to the board.

“Hey,” Lance jumps and turns around sharply.

Keith stood in the doorway, looking annoyed and small in his heavy jacket from the late-winter chill outside. Lance quickly puts the darts back in place.

“Hey!” Lance tries to wave and Keith shrugs off his pack and steps up closer to him, he puts out his hand.

“Uh,” Lance examine it, his nails were cute crescent moons and Lance supposes he has to keep them immaculate for work.

“Upfront or not at all barbunny.”

Lance blows air out his nose, “oh. Yeah, yeah.” He takes his tips out from his back pocket and reluctantly hands them over.

Keith counts them diligently and glances up, “that’s all?”

“That’s why I’m here!” He huffs loudly, “and I’ll have you know that’s hella good for a bartender- who is in fact _not_ a bunny.” He says pointedly and Keith snorts and his face forms the imitation of a smile.

“Alright, well, _Lance_ ,” He forms the word like a tease instead of a syllable. “Put this on and come out here.”

He hands over a single pair of shorts and Lance sighs, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to put this on today.” He says somberly and Keith just shrugs.

“Trust me. We’re not the ones who are supposed to be enjoying this job.”

Lance nods and retreats to the back room to change in private: they were shorter and tighter than his own sequined uniform, but a little more comfortable as they hugged his hips in a soft cloth.

Lance came back to the stage and examined the stage: it was rougher than he first assumed, enough to not slip on.

Keith was not in his usual skin-tight uniform, but a pair of running shorts and loose white top.

“What? You get to wear that?”  
  
Keith shrugged, “you’re the one that needs to practice. Now get to the front of the stage- this isn’t an easy thing to learn.”  
  
Lance’s mouth twists sideways, he wouldn’t claim to be a fast learner or anything, but goddammit did he get the job done (you don’t get into masters school off steam and fantasies that was for sure).

He puts his hand across the cool metal of the pole and experimentally rubs it surface up and down, he had messed with the pole before, a little tipsy with the rest of his coworkers one night, but this was different.

“Do you really want to start with that?” Keith says obtusely as he jumps up next to him, “dancing or lapdancing might be a better place to start. Maybe walking.” He observes, “and it’s not like the manager is looking to hire anytime soon anyway.”  
  
“Ricky likes me,” Lance defends and stands up straighter, “and I know how to dance. My 'chacha real smooth' skills are top notch,” Keith barks a laugh at that and Lance keeps going, “and aren’t lap dances just like, sexy body shimmies in someone’s face?”  
  
Keith shakes his head and sighs, “I heard you were an idiot.”  
  
Lance’s mouth falls open and he almost turns around and stomps off in a dead heat, “do you want my money or not?”

Keith shrugs and then looks back down on the floor, “I’ll teach you how to walk around it and maybe some basic step twists.” He asserts, “better keep up.”

“Oh I will!”

Lance watches as Keith lays his hand delicately on the pole and starts walking around it with his ankles up in the air and face concentrated on the non-existent people below.

“Never watch your steps, always keep your face forward, only smile if they really look at you and you want their wallet, otherwise keep your face pouty, smoldering, whatever you want. But not-”  
  
“Happy? Human?” Lance offers with his hands across his chest.

“I was going to say like you usually have it.” Keith replies.

“How I...Usually have it?” Lance tilts his head.  
  
Keith concentrates on Lance next. “You’re the most excited bartender I’ve ever seen.” He asserts and Lance was about to defend himself or ask why he was watching at all when Keith wraps his leg around the pole and spins.

It was an impressive feat of athleticism where he held himself in the air by one thigh tucked around the metal and one leg sticking out.

Not to mention that his white shirt rode up and Lance was close enough to count the little hairs leading down his navel. Lance curses what he assumed was becoming a heart problem- the kind requiring maybe a pace maker and some pills.

“Can I try that?” Lance asks as Keith comes back up.

“No.” Keith makes face, “not unless you want to fall on your head the first time. Try walking first.”  
  
Lance spends the better part of two hours practicing walking on his tip-toes around a silver floor decoration.

Keith wants a very specific look, legs long and barbie-stiff, head up, arms bent smoothly and turning in time to the thump of dull music from his ipod. It wasn’t as easy as Lance first accessed.

The multiple step-twist turn was grating on Lance’s nerves when Keith put his hands on Lance’s hips and Lance jumps.

“Eee!” He almost squeals and can feel Keith’s pure satisfaction from that as he positions him forward.

“Turn here.” He instructs halfway through Lance’s routine and turns his hips in a sharp circular manner.

Lance’s heartbeat plays racket ball with his ribcage and he grits his teeth. He questions why he chose Keith Kogane to be his instructor- sure he was the best, but also, why was he the best.

Lance keeps his head about him and gets the step-turn correct the next time until Keith is nodding his head approvingly.

“Not bad, huh?” Lance offers with a wink and Keith picks up his own bag again.

“You have a ways to go.” He returns and Lance bonelessly groans.

“You know, positive reinforcement is a proven method to work-- or maybe you just need a doctor for that stick up your ass?” He says tersely and Keith takes his shirt off and looks like he’s getting his uniform out.

“Sure. I’ll bring dog treats next time,” he asserts casually and God does Lance want to throttle him, maybe with his bike, maybe with uh, also his bike.

Lance shakes but then reels himself in, “next time?” He asks thickly.

Keith looks up and shoulders on his pack on his bare skin, “don’t you want to learn how to do this right?” He smiles slowly, “I thought you said you wanted to become better than me.”

“Oh.” Lance stands up straighter, “yeah, totally. And I _will_."  
  
He follows Keith to the changing area to get out of the tight shorts, “soooo.”  
  
“Your friday night tips. Every Saturday.”  
  
Lance groans, “come on.”  
  
“Unless you don’t want to learn.” Lance thinks about the hundred slipped into Keith’s hands from Mr. Louis Vuitton suit.

“Every Saturday. Okay got it.”

Keith took out his sleek black suit before Lance knows what to do and has to turn around abruptly and start whistling the tune of Gilligan's island.

Some people would kill to be naked in a room with Keith Kogane, sometimes Lance would kill not to be. He quickly hides behind a wardrobe and takes his own outfit off and puts his sweatpants and v-neck back on.

When he comes back out, Keith is securing his tie around his neck and Lance is approaching slowly.

Keith blinks at him, “you’re going to have to become comfortable with your body.” He asserts and Lance mouth falls open.

“I serve drinks in a pair of boxers, suspenders and devil horns every other night!”

Keith snorts, “you ran like a scared rodent to behind the wardrobe.” He tilts his head, and then smirks, “barbunny.”  
  
Lance throws the shorts in his direction and turns on his heels, “I’m fine with like, every part of myself. I’m sexy and I know it.”  
  
Keith is laughing behind him and Lance is half-way cursing his own decision making skills. It turns out they were poor.

  
“See you next Saturday!” Keith says provokingly and Lance grumbles thinks about his astrophysics homework that he should always be doing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little carried away...so there's two parts- tho this really does have the feel of a multichaptered story?


	3. The Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two parts of the other story put on hold because I wrote this.
> 
> Note: I sort of mixed up Lance and Keith’s elements and my only explanation is that firefighters put out fire. With water. Yeah.

_Seven_

“Get on top of the fort Keith!” Lance bawled up one of his fists and pointed to the top of a mountain of household items from laundry baskets to trash bins and blankets.

Keith folded his arms of his chest, “nuh-uh.”

Lance frowned and observed him bluntly, “are you scared?”  
  
Keith stuck out his tongue and wrinkled his nose, “you said we could play avalanche rescue!”

Lance took a step back and tugged at the jump rope in his hands, “we did that last week. And I suffocated under a ton of blankets and you took forever to dig me out.” He made a face at Keith.

“Snow is heavy. I was being real.” He defends and picks up one of the white blankets they used as ‘snow.’

Lance shifted from side to side, “I want to play firefighter, come ooooooon.” He whined and Keith sniffs tersely, Lance stuck his bottom lip out. “Come ooooon.” 

“Okay, but you better actually firefight this time instead of yelling ‘Godzilla’ and pushing it all down.”

Lance put his hands over his heart, “I promise.”  
  
Keith sighs deeply and starts to climb on top of the haphazard pile of goods stacked on top of the low coffee table. They were lucky no one was home at Keith’s house that day.

Keith managed to balance on top of a fancy Persian cushion and waste bin.

“I’m ready!” He calls down and watches Lance’s sparkling blue eyes stare back at him, wide with glee.

“Say it.” He yells and Keith exhales soberly.

“Oh no. My curtains. And cat. Everything is on fire and my hair is singed-”

“Good. Because it looks bad.” Lance says with a high giggle.

Keith throws a hand in the air, “I’m on fire here.”  
  
“I’m coming! Don’t worry fair citizen, I’m going to defeat the evil flames and then we’ll eat ice cream or something.”

Keith oohs and peers down, “cherry Garcia?”

“Yeah, of course! My mama packed some when I came over- since the Thompson's don’t you let you have sweets n’ all.”  
   
Keith shifts in place, “what are you waiting for then?”

Lance pretends to douse out the bottom of the fortress with the jump rope, “sssssshhhh.” He makes the sound with his mouth of water spritzing, Keith snickers.

“You’re burning!” Lance chastises.

“Aaaaaah,” he yells sarcastically in a dead tone and Lance furrows his brow and then his mouth goes sideways, like he’s thinking. Keith blinks.  
  
Lance throws the jump rope down and jumps at the fort,

"What are you-"

“Too late! Because little did the citizens expect-”  
  
“Don’t you dare.”  
  
“Godzilla!”

Keith groans a second before the whole structure comes tumbling down as Lance rams it with a dinosaur roar, Keith feels the weight of gravity toss him earthwards.

He flinches and he closes his eyes, putting out his hands to catch himself on instinct.  
  
“Here! Here!” Lance dives forward, dodging a laundry basket and Keith tumbles onto his chest as he catches him.

They both topple to the floor, winded and sore around the edges. Once Keith regains some motion he twists over and put Lance into a headlock.

“Idioooot.” He articulates. “That was irruh-ir-irresponsible.” He mimes the Thompson’s word.

Lance struggles but his little white teeth gleam back at him like stars, “firefighters always catch the citizen! It’s like rule number one, duh Keith, someone jumps out the window and we catch them on trampolines.”  
  
Keith scrambles upward, “why would-”  
  
“We didn’t have a trampoline, but I did caught you!”

Keith lets him go, frowning before huffing a short laugh at Lance being Lance in all circumstance.

Lance grabs his wrist and starts to yank, “come one. My mama gave me an icepack for the Garcia- but it’s still probably melting.”  
  
“I like it better when its like that.” Keith states.

Lance looks back and laughs a little, “you’re weird.”  
  
They eat the icecream under a blanket in the heat and pretend to sneak around the house like spies, Keith doesn’t even care when the Thompson's take away TV privileges for two days when they see the living room.

——————-

_Twelve_

Lance’s heart thumped in his chest as he ran down the street, he tried not run too hard for fear of looking overly sweaty or concerned- Keith would totally make fun of him for that.

But he also had to find him.  
  
“Keith?” He called into the evening air, the street lights blinking on one by one as he trotted down the large roads. “Keiiiith.” He ventures to their usual haunts: the parking lot behind the playground, the empty pool on 9th, the giant oak by the Fosters pond.

Lance runs up and down the road calling his name, _he had to find him_.

Of course, it was always going to be the alley where they sometimes fed stray cats with Hunk.

“Keith,” Lance says with relief as he spots a dark figure balled up onto itself and clutching something in his hand. Lance can’t keep the smile off his face. “Keith, God, I was worried, you totally weren’t at school- and I thought. Uh.”  
  
Keith didn’t respond, doesn’t even look up, he just flicked open the lighter in his hand and pressed his thumb onto the little metal gear, it flickers to life, red flames lick the night air in a spastic dance. They reflected in Keith’s eyes like little hungry forest fires in a dark pond.

Lance loses his smile and approaches cautiously.

He can’t read Keith’s face, but he could see the puffiness under his eyes and rippled tension in his body.

“I heard, stuff. Some stuff.” Lance says weakly and tries to get his attention. “It’s not- I mean.” He gulps, “We could write?”

Keith’s sharp eyes finally sweep upwards and he jerks the lighter down and then back to life again, his face carved in shadows and oranges like a dramtic mask. “What did you hear? You don’t know anything.”  
  
Lance sits down next to Keith, inches apart and tries to remember all the things his mama did when one of them was upset. He wants to wrap his arms around his narrow shoulders and hold on, but he suspected stepping on an agitated viper might get him bit.

He doesn’t know what to say. “It’s okay.”  
  
Keith’s eyes wavered and some emotion flushed across his face. “You don’t know...anything.”  
  
Lance opens his arms, snakebites be damned, and draws him closer. “Hey, hey. I’m not the best writer, but um, I can, for you.”

Keith’s voice cracked, “No you won’t you ADHD bastard. I’ve never even you sit still and concentrate for more than an hour.”  
  
Lance flinched, he knew he just wanted to hurt him, so he hugs tighter. “Maybe they can- change their mind? Maybe.” Lance says wishfully, Keith trembles and Lance realizes he said the wrong thing. “My parents! We always talked about being brothers, let’s do it, who cares about another kid? We can…have you.”  
  
Keith pulls back and looks down at the wooden beam beneath them, “I don’t want to be your brother.” He mumbles and Lance is aware of his hand balled up in Lance’s shirt. Keith’s finally looks up, eyes brimming over, “they don’t want me Lance.”  
  
Lance is lost for words, so he hugs even tighter and Keith cried, a novel sight. Cried like the time Lance broke his leg when they raced each other down ‘the big hill’ and Keith thought Lance was going to die.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs into Keith’s hair.

“No it’s not!” Keith was yanking on his shirt and his muscles balled up into knots in Lance’s hand.

“It’s not you.” Lance’s voice broke this time. “It could never be you. It’s them, it’s all them.” Keith’s foster parents were letting him go.

“How do you know? You don’t. They don’t want me.” he was shaking as if he had frostbite and Lance wants nothing more to light his insides up.

“Didn’t you hear me! It couldn’t be.” He says stubbornly.   
  
“How?” Keith spits back and Lance taps their foreheads together gently.  
  
“‘Cause,” Lance blinks like it’s obvious, “You’re good. And _I_ like you.”  
  
They were close enough that he could feel Keith’s pulse in his wrists and Lance holds his breath.

Keith lets out a sound that is more of a grating bark then a laugh. “No. You don’t. Just yesterday you said I had a mullet and told me to quiznak back to the desert.”

Lance squirmed back and forth, “that was teasing! You know it was. That’s how it is with us.”  
  
Keith looks down and wilts like all the energy was drained from his body, “it won’t be. Not anymore.” Lance holds him close and sniffles and wipes at his own eyes.

Keith glances up, “promise you’ll write.”  
  
“Yeah.” Lance does the only thing he could think of at that moment: he kisses him, simple and plain like the kisses on TV when the guy was at the airport and the lady was about to leave.

Keith tastes very briefly of salt and heartache. Lance wanted his first kiss sort of like this: soft, lighted by the street lights on a warm night and with someone he liked. But he also wished that it wasn’t like this at all.

Keith hiccups and they part, he was smiling for the first time that evening. “What was that?”  
  
Lance shrugs, “my mama was reading a pamphlet about boys going through phases. It said boys could kiss boys.”

Keith shook his head, “I never said they couldn’t.”

Lance blushes, because that’s what he was worried Keith would be worried about. He feels lighter and Keith leans into him and hiccups again.

“I’ll write back.”

————————-

_Twenty-Three_

Keith was in the shower when his neighbor beneath him decided to ruin everyone else’s night in the entire building, if not the street.

Apparently, you shouldn’t leave an English muffin in the toaster oven for over an hour while you took a bath- _who knew_.

Keith was in the shower when the fire alarm noise ricocheted down the halls with a shrill thunder of warning.

Keith smelled smoke and flung a towel around his hips, turned off the water, retrieved his wallet and a pair of sneakers and ran down the emergency exits to the front of the building.

He’ll be honest when he admits he thought there was a real fire- or at least a bigger one.

Instead he found himself standing outside his apartment building in a towel and black sneakers with his hair dripping in the Chicago winter, and no charred buildings of any kind.

He refuses to shiver and puts his arms deliberately over his chest. He grimaces and watched the clouds gather and smoothly form into clumpy dark patterns that eventually sighed out soft white powder. It was snowing- Keith was in nothing but a towel.

“Oh _come on_.” He curses every God he can think of, but mostly blames it on bad karma, he _had_ stolen his neighbor’s paper every other morning when his dog yapped too much.

He approaches the narrow shoulders of one of the rescue workers, he taps on his back, “hey, it’s been an hour, can’t we go in already?”

The man turns around, dressed in a stretched black shirt and the bottom half of a firefighter outfit. He had lightly dark skin and sharp features. Keith’s breath catches in his throat, he looked so familiar, but he dismisses the feeling.

The man looks him up and down, he looked surprised, but something quirked at the edges of his lips, “it will be just a little while.” 

Keith blows air out of his mouth, “it’s snowing. Can’t you see these people are pissed?”  
  
He raises his eyebrows and looks around, “they seem okay. Not everyone is dressed in towel.”  
  
“I was in the shower.” Keith tries to explain.  
  
The man reaches for something from the bright red truck, “do you want a jacket? Blanket? I can’t leave you like that towel-boy.”  
  
Keith averts his eyes, “I’m fine.”  
  
The young man’s words come out lower, “you _are_ fine.” Keith flushes and looks up, the firefighter had a goofy grin on it.

“What?”

“I mean,” the boy fumbles, he backtracks, “you look okay. But take a goddamn jacket. God it’s freezing.”  
  
Keith accepts the jacket and secures the towel more firmly around his waist.

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t look at him, “so, um. Are you from around here?”  
  
“Are you gonna ask me if I fell from heaven?” Keith nearly jokes and the firefighter turns back to him.

“I could.” He says stiffly, “if you want me to.”

Keith shakes his head, "whatever."

"So, um," the man looks him up and down and then chuckles. “You don’t recognize me? Ugh, I guess I did grow a foot or two. Or you’re as unobservant as ever.”

Keith holds his breath and looks more closely in the dark of the shadowy street corner, the same tinted dark blue eyes greet him.

“Lance?”

A long smile stretches across the firefighters- Lance’s lips.

“Took you long enough.”

”You’re actually….a firefighter.” In his city. Lance ended up in his city.  
  
Lance approaches with his palms open, face suddenly stony, “you stopped writing.”  
  
Keith bunches up, “I moved. Again. And again, I wasn’t sure you wanted to…”

Lance shakes his head and Keith tugs the jacket closer to his body, Lance spouts an easy smile and takes out a piece of paper, “do you want to get a drink sometime?”  
  
Keith nods, he nods again and again, “yeah. Sure.” He laughs, a surprised and burning sound, “what are the odds.”  
  
Lance tries to smoothly hand him his number, and tells him another pickup line and Keith pushes his face away, commenting he always knew he grow up into a terrible flirt.

“And hey, Keith,” Lance says as the building opens back up again. “I knew we’d meet again.”

Keith looks down at the ground and the snow tosses his damp hair away from his face, he doesn’t really believe him. “That sounds like bullshit.” He smiles a small expression down at the sidewalk, “But I’m glad.”

Later, Lance kisses him on their first date, like he means it, like he wants him, and Keith reiterates that he’s a terrible flirt.

Though he supposed he says the same thing at the wedding. 


	4. Auction Your Night Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uploaded this as a separate story, but then decided I wanted to consolidate my Klance stories into one place

Keith tugs at his bright red bow tie and feels an overwhelming sensation of regret in his gut.

He was in a suit, tailored, pinned and presented like a present all wrapped up for the parade. A long line of other volunteers surround him, chattering and exchanging stories on how the hell they got into this.

Keith ignores them, cringing at the noise and yelling from a podium and distant crowd. The rest of the volunteers stand in the dim shadows of the backstage, thick curtains as red as rouge lipstick shielding them from sight.

Keith stares at the floor with his lips turned downwards, he hears a familiar voice close by, “Shiro!” He calls out to a tall, solid figure.

Shiro turns around and blinks at him, obviously in a hurry to correct something or direct that as the coordinator of the event. He smiles easily and walked over with a straight back and curious eyes, “they told me you made it. I’m so glad.”  
  
Keith shook his head, “remind me again why I can’t go up there in jeans and a ‘don’t touch me shirt’.” He says grimly. “Or why you need me.”

Shiro gently pats him on the back, “it’s for a good cause. And we needed volunteers, not everyone will auction off their time for a night.”  
  
Keith sighs, “for good reason.”

Shiro shrugs and shakes his head, “the Veteran Foundation thanks you. We’ve already raised half our goal for PTSD treatment in support groups.”  
  
That shuts Keith up as he’s reminded this was real life, a goal, and not just him wasting his time in the abyss of weird college activities.

He sighs, “and the suit is just an added bonus.”

“It makes you marketable!” A girl behind him chirps and Keith can’t argue with that so much.

“You’re almost up,” Shiro informs him, and then someone calls Shiro’s name, his eyes dart to the back, “gotta go.”  
  
“Yeah.” Keith waves, “go do something good. See you.”

The person behind him taps him on the shoulder, “you’re up.” Keith takes a deep breath and creeps towards the curtain and bright lights of the stage.  
  
“This 5 foot 4 bachelor from Houston Texas who grew all over the country, his favorite location is the desert in the early morning. He does tiquando and rides motor bikes in his free time. A Sophomore at the university, he is majoring in aviation. He is also the younger brother of our events coordinator, please welcome, Keith Kogane.”

The crowd lets out an applause, with some people in the back whooping and one person whistling from the back, Keith rolls his eyes to the ceiling and walks out.

He doesn’t make any effort to sway his hips, smile, or look anything other than annoyed. Oh, he’d be auctioned off alright, but he wasn’t going to like it.

“We’ll start the bidding for the night at thirty dollars and raise from there, do I see thirty, I see thirty, do I see thirty-five, I see thirty-five…”

The numbers raise and Keith realizes he might be a prime candidate, he examines the bidders closely, some of them are random but there is one girl in cream lipstick and blue eyeliner that seem particularly interested. She raised the stakes every time and her lucid brown eyes focused on him without blinking.

She wasn’t bad, but someone should have told them he wasn’t interested in gender. Of course, it was only for a night, he wasn’t sleeping with them or anything.

The bid raises to $150 and Keith raises his eyebrows, that was a lot for one night out. A second paddle raises from the very back and Keith almost chokes on his tongue.

A familiar boy in a brown jacket steps out from the cluster of chairs and declares, “170.”

Keith and Lance make eye contact and Keith’s mouth falls open while Lance gives him a cheeky thumbs up. “What the hell.” He whispers under his breath.

“180.” The girl in light lipstick stands up as well, her posture stiff and precise.

“190.” Lance says lazily as he eyes her, she doesn’t give him a second look. “You know what, never mind.“ Lance announces, ”$200.”

Keith stares at the ground, when did Lance have that type of money? He told the group personally that he had like seven other siblings his parents supported.

The woman finally tears her eyes away from Keith and Lance waves at her, they seem to share a very brief silent communication. She puts down her paddle.

“Sold! To the man in the brown jacket, one night with Keith Kogane. Remember to sign the checks out to the veterans foundation. All contributions help!”

Keith leaps off the stage in an unorthodox move and goes to talk to Lance with at least a lot of adjectives and maybe some colorful hand gestures.

Lance backs up, and several guests herd Keith back to the stage and behind the curtain. He ruminates on the recent development. He had a date. A date with Lance McClain.

He threads his fingers through his hair and tugs. Let no one say God didn’t punish you for setting Bobby Nelson’s hair on fire in the fourth grade. Because he did.

Keith waits for the ceremony to be over, they surpass their goal by around $127 dollars and Shiro and his team were cheering and opening champagne bottles before the night was over.

Keith crept out from behind the lipstick velvet curtains and jumps back to the ground, a few stragglers were wandering around the room and picking off the last of the buffet.

Keith didn’t think there’d be much hope, but it turned out Lance did appear to love loitering. He stood in the corner scavenging mini-corndogs.

“What the hell?” Keith calls from across the room and speed walks over, “what the hell Lance? You were telling the entire class yesterday that you would take my quiznak and ‘stuff it’ if I didn’t stop suggesting the test not be graded on a curve.”

“Okay, one, curves are my life in our dynamics seminar and you have aced everything you’ve ever touched, so yeah. And two, I was doing you a favor bucko.” Lance says in his usual smug tone.

Keith raises his eyebrows and almost stumbles backwards, he mumbles something about ‘helping the charity, and yeah, thank you,’ “Though you didn’t have to choose me.” He finishes with a flourish.

Lance shakes his head, “a little bird told me you are as gay as space, if not more than space- which is pretty gay. I was saving your ass! Figuratively.”

Keith makes a face and bawls up his fists, he can feel his cheeks practically glowing red in the dark, “it was just a date, I’m not a child Lance, I would have gone on perfectly platonic date with her.”  
  
Lance wraps his long arm around Keith’s shoulder. “Whatever. This is gonna be like ten times better.”  
  
Keith blinks and he eyes Lance, “you’re not really going to take me out.

“I am.”  
  
“Really?”

“Uh-huh. See you on the 26th!” Lance cheers and starts to walk away, waving his hand in the air and not looking back. Keith’s mouth was hanging open again. Lance was serious.

**\-----------------**

 

Keith didn’t really know what to do with himself for the next few days. He still had papers and exams to do, and a headache on Thursday that almost sent him into the Shadow Realm. But Friday, Friday was something else.

Friday night seemed like the most bizarre concept, something the Twilight Zone could make up to made audiences gasp. He had a class with Lance, Lance declared him the ultimate rivalry in said class. And now he had a date.

He makes it clear to Shiro that this was an unfortunate turn of events. “I hate this.”  
  
“Keith, I’m out with Allura.” Shiro says gently over the phone as Keith waits, two hours to go.

“If he takes me to that lake on 29th st makeout whatever point I’m throwing myself into the sun.”  
  
“Keith, yes, okay, however, Allura and I-”  
  
“Anniversary, yes. But hear me out: faking my own death.”  
  
“Goodnight Keith.” Shiro says a few more conciliatory words and then ends up forcefully saying goodbye on him like the polite patron shooing away a telemarketer.

Keith hangs up his phone and sighs into his hands, he was alone in this. He wanders to his bedroom to dig through his closet for his old 2007 deadmau5 t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Both had exactly three holes in them.

He at least brushes his teeth and grabs his wallet as he continues to wait. He could only imagine where Lance wanted to take him, what he mostly knew about the boy was from his boasting in class and Hunk- a lab partner last semester.

He used to be on the diving team, he had a terrible band called ‘Ice Ice Baby’ - used supposedly to get ‘the ladies, and some gentlemen,’ he once ate 15 hot pockets in a row. And now he wanted to Keith out on a date for $200 dollars.

Keith heard the doorbell ring exactly at three pm, he jumps, but takes his time getting to the door.

Lance stood at the entrance with a wide smile on his lips that Keith couldn’t tell if it was ironic or not. He wore a light blue button up and neatly pressed black slacks, Keith would be impressed if he wasn’t trying to burn a hole in the ceiling with his gaze.

He didn’t want to look at Lance McClain at that moment.

“Here!” Lance’s wide smile translates to a full bouquet being thrust into his hands, Keith nearly drops them in surprise.

“You got me flowers.” He says dumbfounded as he stares at the array.

“I know, right?” Lance leans on the door and seemed to study Keith, “I’m the suavest player in the game, see.”  
  
Keith nearly drops them from that sentence alone, but they smell of baby’s breath and little white daisies with blue columbines. He goes inside and puts in a novelty tweedy bird pitcher he got from a thrift shop drunk one night.

“Okay,” he turns around and places his hands across his chest, “where did you want to go at three in the afternoon?”

Lance raises his eyebrows up and down, “you’ll see. Besides,” he shepherds Keith out the door, “I have an entire night, we’ll make the most of it.”

Lance babbles to him on the way down, about their class and the test they just took, and how much he didn’t like umbrellas for some reason. They looked silly.

He walks out onto the campus and to the other end of the school, Keith hums when he realizes where they are going.

“The botanical gardens?” Their university happened to have one tucked away by the lake and cramped between the chemistry and historical collections buildings.

“Yeah! No one really goes into them unless they’re on the tour freshman year, so they just forget they’re here.”

Keith frowns, he would like to dispute that point, but he really hadn’t gone to the gardens since last year.

He sighs and lets himself be led, “anyway, I’ve told you about my roommates love for puking near my bed and the number of flip-cup tournaments I’ve won, how about you?”  
  
“Uh, we’re not up to that level yet of telling you where I puke. Maybe on the way back.”  
  
“No,” Lance puts his hands behind his head, “what are you about, who is Keith Kogane, besides mysterious and pouty.”  
  
Keith huffs and points forward, “nope. Actually, that’s all there is to me, pouting.”

“Awe, come on.”  
  
“Here, we’re here.” Keith points at the building.

Lance examines him one more time and they pay the small fee to get into the series of greenhouses.

Lance waves exuberantly at the desk person, “Pidge! Hell yeah, I hoped you were working today.”  
  
A small girl with hair looking like a puff of scraggly bird nest looked up at them, she pushes her glasses back onto her nose, “ah, right, the famous date I was hearing about.”  
  
Lance nods and leans on the desk, “I told you you should have gone to the auction.”  
  
“Pass.” She says while looking back down at the text book on her desk.

Keith clears his throat and Lance turns back around, “Keith, this is Pidge- computer science and botany major. Total geek, take apart your watch in under minute, terrible hygiene,

“Lance.” Pidge warns.

“You should totally help me convince her to enter robot rumbles.” Lance says excitedly as he takes off his jacket in preparation to enter the warm rooms.  
  
“I’m not entering rover into anything other than a beauty contest. Since he’s a work of art.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Lance hand waves that away and hangs their jackets in the cubies in the lobby.

Keith looks around curiously, “this was your ideal date?”

“What? You haven’t seen anything yet, this is like the beginning of the hoagie sandwich. You have to wait for the surprises to come next.”  
  
“What kind of sandwiches are you eating?” Keith was mystified.

“It’s a metaphor. Come on,” He takes him by the wrist and guides him into the humid air of the gardens.

They had four rooms: the ferns, succulents/cactus, water plants and what appeared to be a very small rain forest.

Lance guides him around, “okay, this is all what I’ve heard from Pidge, so stop me when it sounds wrong.”

  
“If you say soylent green is people, I swear.”  
  
“Soylent green is people,” Lance says dramatically and then laughs, it’s somewhat a good sound. “This is a fern.” He points to the closest leafy growth, “This is another fern. And another, but bigger. Ferne-er. This is the alpha fern, it’s the largest and has a red flower.”  
  
“And this one?” Keith asks sarcastically as he points to a small lime green one.

“Fern-Zeigler. Looks like professor Ziegler and spits on his students, very unfortunate.”  
  
“Oh my God.” Keith lets out a bark of a laugh and Lance beams.

Lance continues to name the plants and give him various stories to them and making up plant facts about when they seduce other lady plants and so on.

Keith touches a few of the broad leaves and finds a type of peace to the spritzing water and empty little walkways, “I should come here more often.” He asserts without thinking.

Lance immediately turns and lights up, “Yes! Look at that, I’m a great influence, this place is the best.”  
  
“Not so bad.” Keith corrects and Lance bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Come on,” he gestures, “you’ll like this one.”  
  
They make their way to a more arid room and Lance presents him with the cactus, “ta-da, Mr. Desert-in-the-morning-is-my-favorite-place,” Lance snorts, “super cheesy by the way.”  
  
Keith shakes his head, “they forced me to name something, I said gas station on 25th as well but that said that was not romantic.”  
  
“Gas station, of course, that’s where I should have known to take you.” Lance says while hitting himself in the forehead gently.

Keith leans down and examines the succulents and little blooming cacti with orange and pink tops. “These ones are you,” Lance says as he makes eye contact with him, “prickly.”

“Prickly?”  
  
“Prickly, but also,” Lance gives a mischievous grin, “small.”

Keith crosses his arms across his chest, “Anyone is short next to you, I’m average height.”  
  
“Suuure,” Lance teases him and puts an arm around his shoulders.

Keith points to a flower in bloom, “well, this ones you: will open up for anyone.”

Lance shakes his head and gasps jokingly, “is that an accusation against my virtue. I keep my legs closed, thank you.”  
  
“No,” Keith blinks as he frowns, “I was saying you’re very open. I don’t think you’re sleeping with anyone.” Keith says as he tries to explain himself in short bits.

Lance hangs his head, “that’s even worse!”

Keith cracks a smile and they continue to peruse the end of the walk: the small trees and the last of the blooming tropical flowers. Lance bends down and picks up a flower that fell to the floor, he puts it in his buttonhole, Keith nods at it.

“You may be presentable yet.”  
  
“Right. Mr. Sweatpants and holes in his collar.”

"It’s a look.”

Lance shakes his head and they make their way out of the botanical garden, Pidge waves at them and tells them to come back or not, whichever. As well as tries to explain code to them to help her with her last part of her project.

“The loops aren’t working!” Pidge explains.

“I’m on a $200 dollar date Pidge, I’m busy.” Lance stresses and Pidge rolls her eyes and grumbles about C-language.

Keith watches Lance’s face, he chews on the words before he spits them out when they get outside, “why’d you do it? The bid I mean.”  
  
Lance shrugs, “you know.”  He turns and points at the city, “you hungry?” He was already walking down the sidewalk.  
  
Keith hunches his shoulder and follows him in short steps. It was night time at that point, around six as Lance takes them down the long streets of the small college town.

“Okay, but it was $200 bucks.” Keith didn’t let it go as they make their way to the downtown, lit by little fairy lights and lined by old fashioned benches that’s cast iron curved at the feet.  
  
“Honestly?” Lance’s dark blue eyes glance at him, “I won a scratch lottery ticket and figured I should spend it on a good cause or something.

“A lottery ticket?” Keith examines him.

Lance winks, “you could say I’m very lucky.”

Keith shrugs, “well I guess if you’re gonna spend it on something…Shiro has been working up towards this for months, so yeah.”  
  
Lance smiles back at him, “and you don’t seem like the type to volunteer for this sort of thing.”

Keith smiles in return, curling it up at the edges to be somewhat coy, “I was bribed.”

“Alright, but you also get a free meal.” Lance tugs him onward to a tucked away restaurant front, “tell me you haven’t been here.”  
  
Keith blinks around, “I haven’t been here.”

“Fantastic!” Lance pumps his fist in the air. It was a small pizzeria stuck in as a hole in the wall, the pizza’s lay on naked display on large cases and air smelled like dough and a hot oven.

The white tiles squeaked against his shoes, the walls were covered in pictures of celebrities and star systems. Cosmos Pizzeria.

“It’s star themed, right? Get it, with all the stars on the wall.” Lance explains as he points at Orion’s belt next to a picture of Marilyn Monroe.  
  
“Oh,” Keith blinks at the framed actors and then chuckles to himself, “clever I guess.”  
  
“Okay, what do you want?” Lance says as he hops up to the counter.

Keith takes out his wallet, “I can get it.”  
  
“No way, my date, my treat.”  
  
“Do I have to arm wrestle you? I said I’ll pay- I don’t like debts to people.”  
  
Lance sticks his tongue out at him, “too late, I’m handing my money over. You’re in debt. But we’re in college, so I promise, so is everyone is.”

A girl in a smock and a business like tone takes their orders, Keith manages to get his in, “artichokes and black olives.”  
  
Lance gives him a look and wrinkles his nose, “for real?”  
  
“Do they have lobster and filet mignon? I could have that instead.”  
  
Lance shakes his head, “you are a mess. I’ll have pineapple and chicken.”  
  
Keith knocks his elbow into Lance’s side, “pineapple? Now we have to fight.”  
  
Lance does end up paying to Keith’s chagrin and they get a seat at the back, Lance teases him continually about pizza toppings, and then proceeds to name star systems for him.

“Ooh, that’s the Andromeda galaxy, that’s our closest neighbor- totally gonna run into us in like a trillion years. Make a super galaxy. It’ll be sweet.”  
  
Keith eats his pizza thoughtfully, “so you are astrophysics.”  
  
“Damn, don’t I know it.” Lance says mildly. “Mostly inspired by Star Trek, homoerotic undertones and space being super fucking cool.

Keith smiles with all his teeth, “Alright, but here’s a question for you: favorite episode.”

“Trouble with Tribbles hands down.”

They continue to exchange ideas about Star Trek until Keith almost drops his pizza when Lance makes a joke about the appeal of Kirk and Spock ‘making a super galaxy of their own if you know what I mean.’

He may or may not have let out a laugh, but then Lance offered to feed him if he wasn’t going to hold onto his pizza properly. Keith declines the offer.

Lance finishes first and tells him, “welp, I’ve obviously won the pizza eating contest. You’re move.”  
  
Keith chokes down the rest of his pizza quickly.

“Okay.” He declares as he leaves the small inlaid restaurant. “Not so bad. I appreciate the night out.” Keith thinks about what he’ll do when Lance has him at Keith’s front door.  
  
“What?” Lance blinks, “the times not over. I bid for you fair and square for the whole night.”  
  
Keith blushes as he thinks of having him for the ‘whole night.’ “Was there…more you wanted to do?”

Lance winks, “Oh yeah.”  
  
Lance takes him to the liquor store and buys them some wine, by that time all the street lights are on and Keith can feel the hours ticking up until midnight.

Lance takes them to the park and opens the bottle, “okay, the game is: don’t let anyone see you drinking in the park like bums.”  
  
Keith snickers, “easy enough, hand it over.”  
  
They take turns sipping from Lance’s ‘romantic gesture’ of cheap wine and then Keith challenges him to race to the playground when his teeth are a little numb and Lance is hiccuping. This time Keith wins.

They pant next to the swing set and Keith pushes on Lance’s shoulder, “don’t tell me the wine slowed you down.”

“Maybe I just like to watch the back of you?”

Keith rolls his eyes, “right. Sure.”

Lance approaches the nearest swing set, “Okay, but someone can definitely swing higher than the other .” Lance declares, whites of eyes and teeth glowing in the silver sliver of the moon.

“Are we kids or something?”

Lance hops on, “yeah!”

Keith takes up the challenge and they position themselves on the tall play set, Keith still is breathless and his legs ache ever so slightly as he pumps them. Lance jumps off once and Keith laughs as he stumbles to his feet and barely stops himself from falling over. Lance returns to his swing and they slow down, their eyes meet as they ease to a stop.

“So,” Keith says quietly, “did you want to win the bid?” The wine makes his head fuzzy and he stares at Lance’s broad hands hanging by his side.

Lance draws circles in the dirt in front of him as he sits on the swing, “I dunno dude.”  
  
“Come one.” Keith pushes him, “I had a good time.”  
  
“Had?”  
  
“Having.” He slurs ever so slightly.

“You had nice hair, and a cool bio. And I kinda think you’re hot in class and wanted to maybe see if I could get rid of that?”

“Get rid of it.” Keith pauses and becomes motionless on the swing.

“You know, tell myself to knock it off. Get over a crush.”  
  
Keith flushes and looks away, he steels himself and then turns back with a curving grin, “did it work?” He was mocking him somewhat, he could tell.

Lance shakes his head, “unfortunately, no. The ship is crash landing in the crisis zone. The simulator is broken, we’re on fire…Maday, maday…”

Keith leans forward and brushes his lips up against Lance’s ever so slightly, “good.”  
  
He kisses him with the glow of the setting moon on his back and the shadows of the playground snaking between his shoes.

Keith wasn’t always sure how kisses should feel, sometimes the dry drag of teeth and unlucky nose collision, sometimes the wet smacks of inexperience and too much saliva. Sometimes a kiss was just a kiss as they tried to pry sensation that wasn’t there out of the other person.

This wasn’t that. Keith wasn’t sure he knew what kisses were supposed to feel like, but the tentative and purposeful kiss, with the glow of warmth that tingled through his whole body was new.

Keith overlaid his lips over Lance’s and felt the dip of his tongue and smooth tilt of his head to let him over so slightly in. It was the moment before a roller coaster drops or a bike flies down a large hill.

It made him want to quit his job, buy a commune and kiss this boy until the sun dies and the government shuts them down.

Keith gets up so he can be closer to him, pushing him on the swing every so slightly. Lance almost falls off backwards and Keith catches him.

“Whoa there.” He smiles.

Lance gets up and pushes him against the playset, digging his back into the rungs of a ladder. The sensation is intense and he knows he wants to eat him whole.

Lance’s hands trace up and down his chest and Keith manages to get one hand under Lance’s shirt and over her right pectoral.

He kisses him thoroughly until Lance is panting, tasting of wine and pizza dough and something salty as the ocean, then he kisses him some more.

“Hey! What are you kids doing, the park is closed.” Lance and Keith pause and their eyes go wide, “no drugs deals on my premise tonight!”  
  
Lance grabs Keith’s hand and starts to run, they bound across the open field and into the foliage before breaking out back into the brightly lit streets.

Keith was laughing like his lungs might give out, and holding his sides, “oh my God.” Lance joined him and they glowed in the aftereffect of cheap liquor and late nights.

  
Keith brushes his hair aside, “thank you.”  
  
Lance looks on the cusp of shy and small as he scuffs his feet on the ground, he shrugs hesitantly, “ya know.”  
  
Keith smiles broadly at him, “walk me home.”  
  
“Wait,” Lance pauses, “one more place, it’s almost open now.”  
  
Keith blinks, “more?”  
  
“When I said the whole night, I meant the whole night.” He winks and Keith’s stomach flutters like this boys tongue wasn’t just down his throat and everything was new and fresh and fluttering. He follows him back down the whispering dark roads.

They hold hands in the empty streets and Keith really wishes his palms would stop sweating. He bumps up into Lance intermittently, friendly, curious, they don’t talk as they make their way tiredly across town. **  
**

“This place is the best.”  
  
“Isn’t everything to you?”  
  
Lance nods, “let’s just said I have great taste.”  
  
Keith puffs his chest out, “you could say that.”  
  
Lance chuckles and points ahead, “The Cafe Cat Company, right up ahead, bakery and coffeehouse.” Keith could see the lights were indeed on, “opens at 4:30 in the morning everyday. You have no idea how many early morning study sessions I’ve had here.”  
  
They stumble into the warm room, smelling of fresh bread and yes, some cat hair.

The cat’s stare languidly up at them as most of them nap and flick their tails up and down. Keith looks around, “it’s cute.”  
  
Lance bumps into him, “You’re cute.”

Keith snorts, “are you always like this, or is it the wine.”  
  
“Little of both.”

Lance orders them two coffees with cream and a muffin to share. Their muffins were apparently huge.

They sit at the little ornate table, too small for most things and Keith feels a stand-offish cat named ‘Red’ jump on his lap.

He pets it absently as he stares at Lance, mesmerizing the sharp jut of his chin and little smirk of his eyes.

“Hey, next year?”  
  
“Yeah?” Lance asks as he rubs his weary eyes.

“Don’t bid on someone else.”  
  
“Oh God, you think I have that type of cash? No way, you were a special case.”  
  
Keith leans over and kisses him fondly, because he could kiss him and got to kiss him.

They drink the coffee deeply and Lance walks him back to his dorm. They stare at each other momentarily in the sharp florescent of Keith’s hall.

Lance blinks and sticks his hands in his pockets, “can I kiss you goodbye?”

Keith shakes his head and corners him against the door, “you are ridiculous.”

He kisses him as gently as tissue paper tears or flower petals fall to the earth. They didn’t really have any energy except for something slow and sweet.

Keith leaves him just as Lance leans in for more.

He looks down at his feet, “I’ll plan the next one.”  
  
Lance sprouts an enormous grin, “really? Wooing me are you.”  
  
Keith kisses his cheek and he can feel Lance’s face heat up, “consider yourself wooed.”

They part and Keith thanks Shiro in a very short text. It had a couple exclamation points.


	5. Customers, Cashiers and the Rain

The rain comes down in heavy, thick sheets like threads of silver connecting the sky to the earth in a multitude of violin strings that sang acoustic woes. _Pita-pita-pita-pita-pita._

Lance growled in the back of his throat, clutching his thin jacket tight around his body. He looked both ways down the empty streets, _where the hell was the bus?_

He shifted his weight from side to side, the little overhang he huddled under didn’t stop the rain from soaking into the soles of his shoes and dripping intermediately on his shoulders.

“I can’t live like this.” He grumbles and tosses his hood over his head. He takes out his phone and scans local news sources: 28th closed due to mudslide, Lance’s eyes went wide. Three hour delays.

He groans and throws his head back, “come oooon.”  
  
He takes a deep breath, secures his wallet in the pocket closest to his body and starts in on the soggy afternoon.

It almost instantly soaks him, _pita-pita-pita-pita,_ the icy sheets bleed into his skin and drips down his back. He half-jogs to the next shelter of a huge oak, and then the security of a little shop.

Yes, he usually liked rain, yes, he would normally jump in puddles, _but_ he also had the longest day at his job that he could measure in the number of internal screams in his head. 3 per hour.

There was only so many hours someone could cashier at a Home Depot.

Lance braces himself for the next dash into the onslaught of wetness, as heavy as a bodyslam and cooling his blood like a comment from his bitchy chemistry professor.

Lance rushes into the downpour and feels the last bit of dryness secured in his underwear disappear. He’s just lucky his phone case is waterproof.

“Hey,” Lance doesn’t turn around. “Hey.” The heavens weeping violently on top of him is suddenly superseded by a plastic covering.

Lance blinks and wipes the water out of his eyes, he turns around to find two curious eyes fixated on him.

Lance’s eyes go wide, “ _you_.”

Keith, the Keith, either building a bomb shelter or a bomb in his basement with all the things he bought at the Home Depot. That Keith.

The Korean boy was frowning as they paused in the rain and Lance studies him. The atmosphere is muted and colorless for a moment.

“What do you do with all that plywood and spray paint?” He finally blurts out and Keith’s eyes crinkle at the edges.

“I dunno, why are you walking alone in this aquarium?” He snipes back and Lance can tell this is getting off to a weird start, he looks back up at the umbrella.

“Um, did you fall and this land on top of me, or is it an offering?”  
  
Keith looks like he’s regretting his decisions but keeps the covering above them, “you looked miserable. And, I just. Recognized you.”

Lance breaks into a full-break smile, “your favorite Home Depot employee, yeah.”  
  
Keith scrunches his nose, “sure. Whatever. Where are you headed?”  
  
Lance shrugs, “home.”  
  
“Away from the Home Depot?”  
  
Lance makes the sound of an offended cat in the back of his mouth, “excuse you. Puns, in my hour of distress?”  
  
Keith brushes his bangs aside, “sorry?”

“Dude, I’m kidding.”

“Where are you headed?”  
  
Lance shrugs, “I can head wherever if you’re going in this direction.” They begin to walk.  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“Yes!” Lance squeaks, remembering himself, “thank you, oh God, I appreciate it. Start collecting two of every animal in this type of weather.  Build an arc.”  
  
Keith starts walking and Lance has to keep up with his clipped steps, “why do you think I buy all that plywood?”  
  
Lance unexpectedly snorts a laugh, “besides ripping all the tags off your purchases to make my life harder?” He jokes as Keith glances at him.

“What are else are they paying you for?” He asks with a bemused glance and Lance realizes this might be what flirting felt like if he still didn’t resent this dude.

“They pay me? Fuck. Someone tell them that.”  
  
They laugh, and maybe this is what flirting feels like.

Lance follows Keith down the soaked sidewalk and past the park, Keith is cagey and not forthcoming what he was doing in the middle of the storm. But seemed to be willing to listen to Lance describe his day with fervor.

“Anyway, this yuppie asks me how many times they have to water their cacti and I make up some number, because I just work there. And they pick all twenty up, only buy one and I have to restock all 19 others. That’s what it’s like to work at the Home Depot as the answer to your question. Also, lots of dirty construction dudes in jeans.”  
  
Keith exhales, “doesn’t sound bad.”  
  
“I mean sure, when they’re young and have most their teeth- but mostly they call me son and tell me to buy gold.”  
  
Lance rants a little until he realizes he may have passed his street and his mama would be calling him soon.

He walks Keith all the way to his house anyway. Lance asks if he can see Keith’s phone to make a call- Keith hands it over and Lance puts his number in under ‘Lance McHot-pants.’

He hands it back, “you are shitty customer. But…” He grins, “thanks. And check your phone.”  
  
“You’re a shitty cashier!”  
  
Lance laughs and turns around, “what? I can’t hear your over the rain.” He starts to run, but Keith trails after him. He forces the umbrella in his hands and Lance makes it home.


End file.
